


Eight Ways to Say I Love You

by sciamachy



Series: I Love You Verse [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, Foiled Confessions, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciamachy/pseuds/sciamachy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Or Jean’s Eight Attempts at Confessing to Eren)</p><p>A story where Jean is in dire need of a cheering squad and nerves of steel. Especially the nerves.</p><p>Written for SNKKink prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take One

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [8 Ways to Say I Love You by R. McKinley](http://chickenshit.tumblr.com/post/37446542890)

 

  


* * *

 

_**i.** _

 

  
Nursing a bottle of alcohol, Jean glares mutinously at the torture device lying innocently in the middle of the table. This device, also known as phone to other people not named Jean Kirstein, lies surrounded by empty bottles of beer, unscathed, unfortunately, by the spills around it. 

  
He eyes it intensely as he takes another swing, gulping down the alcohol that burns his throat, before slamming the bottle down and rattling the things on the table. Including the phone.

  
Blasted phone.

  
Warmth pooling at the bottom of his stomach, courtesy of the alcohol and a few other feelings that Jean has no time to identify at the present moment, he gingerly picks up the device and scrutinizes the silver thing. The screen was blank, inactivated, and the buttons were spinning wildly round and round.

  
He presses the button on top, screen flaring to life, and unlocks the phone after four tries. The numbers 5 and 6 always seem to be missing or not in their proper position, damn it.

  
Without a thought and as if this was the only thing his brain was wired to do at the moment, Jean soon finds himself pressing the phone to his ears. Continuous rings blare out from the tiny little speakers straight to his eardrums, a background noise to the quickening beat of his heart.

  
Then the shrill rings fade into voicemail.

  
"Hey, you’ve reached Eren Jaeger, what do you wan - Ouch, fuck Mikasa, what the - Just leave your message after the beep! Come back here, Armi -"

  
Beep.

  
"Uh." Jean very clearly responds. He clears his throat, trying to gather his thoughts to an organized mess.

  
"Eren," Jean tries again, pauses as a knot forms on his beer-soaked tongue, "I know you’re, uh, asleep. I mean, why wouldn’t you be, right?" He laughs, voice shaky, and his brain to mouth filter broken, "I just, uh, I want to say tha - I want to say something?"

  
Jean’s head was beginning to hurt too, from the litany of ‘SayitTellhimSayitSayitJeanTellhim!” that bounces around his brain as it gets fuzzier and the world blurrier around him.

  
His heart was starting to pound earnestly, the clock ticking closer to that moment where he was finally going to blurt out three simple words that his lips refuses to form. 

  
He wasn’t palpitating, was he?

  
"I want to tell you, Eren, that I -"

  
A click and -

  
"Hello?"

  
A sleepy murmur interrupts Jean’s panic over the condition of his heart, the husky voice in the other end sending the vital organ an entirely worst problem. Not so different from his initial condition because it feels like his heart was beating too fast that it was starting to skip a beat.

  
Jesus, he knows that much beer alone wasn’t a very good idea but what the hell, his nerves obviously thought it was.

  
"Hello? Jean?" The voice reiterates, sounding much clearer this time.

  
Jean swears audibly as his heart skips another beat before trying to frantically claw its way out his ribcage. Shit.

  
"Jean? You okay? Hello?"

  
"Eren." Jean forces out, sounding strangled as a lump of nerves blocks his throat. He grapples for another bottle of beer.

  
"Why are you calling at past midnight? It can’t wait tomorrow?" Eren grumbles from the other end, a subtle sound of yawn right after.

  
"No, I-"

  
Shit. There’s no more beer.

  
"Well? What’s this urgent thing do you want to tell me? It better be important, Jean."

  
Eren’s words flies through his ears, unheeded as Jean busily stares in horror at the empty bottles. Not a single one remains for salvation.

  
"I," Jean grips the phone hard, heart still beating frantically, "am not drunk enough for this."

  
He presses the end button and throws the phone to the table, uncaring as it slides through the spills and knocks other bottles down. He, too, meets the same fate as he slumps down the table, groaning and utterly defeated.

  
Attempt one: Not even close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**ii.** _

 

  
  
"Want to dance?" 

  
Jean tilts his head to the side, his gaze falling on Sasha’s extended hand and the cheshire grin on her face. He snorts, turning away to continue staring back at the mass of bodies in the dance floor.

  
"No, thanks." 

  
Loud club music almost drowns out his words. The place vibrates with each beat of music, bright streaks of green, red, and blue lights chasing each other in semi-darkness.

  
"Okay, then," Sasha slides inside the booth across him, snatching an unattended glass and downing its content. "I think I saw Eren near the bar."

  
"So?"

  
"I just thought you should know." When Jean looks over, Sasha was grinning knowingly at him. "Especially if you know who’s keeping him upright at the moment."

  
He glares, and if looks could mutilate… “Where is he?”

  
"By the bar. Near the corridor to the bathrooms." Sasha vaguely waves at the direction, attention now focused on the food left in the table, "Might want to hurry before he could profess his undying love to the boss. Levi’s -"

  
Jean was out the booth before Sasha could finish her sentence, muffled snickers following him out as he strides with a determined focus to the bar. He spots two familiar set of hair and his steps unconsciously get wider and faster.

  
"-oron, I am going to cut off your tongue and see if you could drink again, you stupid kid, goddamn useless pile of height."

  
Jean pauses as he sees the weird sight of Levi’s shorter frame hauling Eren’s laughing one and trying to keep him from taking residence at the floor. Jean was about to smirk until he sees where Levi was currently touching to achieve that goal.

  
"Sir!" Jean hurries, moving to Eren’s other side and slinging the other’s hand over his shoulders. 

  
"Jean?" Eren slurs, lips stretched into a ridiculous smile.

  
"Finally!" Levi drops Eren and the sudden full weight of Eren dropping to Jean makes him stagger. Eren laughs.

  
"I’ll, uh, take care of him." Jean mutters to Levi, face turned away and hoping the dim light hides the red from Levi’s gaze. Eren, deciding he dislikes being ignored and channeling his inner monkey, moves to face Jean before hooking both arms over Jean’s nape. Jean automatically loops his arms on Eren’s waist for balance.

  
"Oh…?" Levi grins, familiarly sadistic, and Jean tries to take a step back. He stumbles on a bar stool. 

  
"Uh."

  
Levi rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Get home in one piece.” He turns away and starts to walk before, “I want him to be able to walk tomorrow.” Levi smirks over his shoulder and Jean thinks he’s going to dread going to work from this day on.

  
As soon as Levi disappears in the sea of bodies, Jean starts moving towards the booth. Maneuvering the two of them back, which was now blessedly empty of Sasha or any of their co-workers, Jean pushed Eren down the seat, shoving him to the inner part. It was no easy task and Jean finds himself sitting down beside Eren and trying to regain his bearings. The whole process probably flushed the alcohol out of his system as he feels sober enough to focus intently on Eren’s face.

  
“Jean?”

  
“Mm?” Jean licks his dry lips.

  
“Last week,” Eren says, words Jean has to strain to hear. “What did you want to say?” He moves closer to Jean and in his inebriated state, only succeeds in falling to Jean’s arms. In this position, Eren’s head was positioned so damn near his neck, every puffs of breath raising the hairs on his nape.

  
“It’s nothing.” Jean retorts, his voice deeper than usual.

  
“Tell me.”

  
“It’s – ”

  
A hand suddenly cups his jaw, tilting his head to the side, and another pair of dry lips presses to his own. The kiss was sudden and Eren’s closed eyelids were so near that Jean finds his own eyes slipping shut, mouth moving against the pressure. It doesn’t taste sweet nor something identifiable as Eren but it was a kiss Jean was going to remember for a long time.

  
It ends eventually, something that Jean regrets but he doesn’t continue. Instead he tilts his head back just enough that their foreheads were resting against each other, their lips barely centimeters apart. Jean relishes the moment for a while, their little own world in the middle of loud music and noise, and they stay like that until their breathing evens out. Jean parts his lips, finally finding his voice to say three little words.

  
“I lo – ”

  
A snore cuts him off, Eren’s head sliding down and hitting Jean’s nose in the way.

  
Cursing silently and eyes watering at the sudden sting, Jean catches Eren before the other completely slides down in a heap. He moves them in a comfortable position, Eren’s body leaning heavily on Jean and head pillowed on his shoulders.

  
Jean sighs, but despite his annoyance, his lips keep twitching up as Eren keeps letting out soft snores right next to his ears.

  
Attempt two: Maybe next time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**iii.** _

 

 

  
Jean stops his pacing as soon as the door opens to admit Connie, a bouquet in one hand and a little plush toy of Cronus the Titan in the other.

 

"Here," Connie grins, handing Jean both items, "You’re all set."

 

"Will this really work?" Jean asks, dubious and wary, as he scrutinizes the items on hand. The toy looks, well, ugly to Jean’s taste but Armin reassured him before it was made that Cronus, the Greek Titan who was Eren’s favorite, always looked that ugly. It was soft though, the plush made of high quality materials and with a cost that impacted a significant portion of Jean’s monthly salary. The bouquet, on the other hand, was pretty with the elaborate wrapping of a mix of flowers specially ordered from a top-notch seller. Any girl would surely be happy to receive it, which, unfortunately, will never happen because the recipient was definitely not girly in any way. "Maybe I should have just given him chocolates instead of flowers?"

 

"Yeah, I think so too."

 

"What?"

 

Rather than answering, Connie slaps Jean on the back before ushering him out the door of the conference room of their office. “Don’t sweat it!” Connie assures but Jean wasn’t entirely convinced. “Go! Sasha texted me earlier that she’s running out of excuses to keep Eren in the building.”

 

"I’m really starting to think this isn’t a good id-"

 

"Good luck!"

 

The door slams shut behind, lock clicking shut and nearly braining Jean in the process, and he was left alone in the middle of an empty hallway. Office hours had been over a while ago, the only people left in the place were the accomplices in Jean’s grand plan of confession and of course, the victim or, er, Eren Jaeger.

 

He throws one confused look over his shoulders, Jean wondering what the hell does Connie expect, lock himself in until he goes away? Scoffing, Jean starts to walk down the aisle. His formal suit was burning him because the air-cons were turned off as soon as work was over, and the collar of his dress shirt was feeling more and more like a noose than anything. The formality was all of their idea and Jean was starting to second guess his decision in involving his co-workers in the plan.

 

Arriving in front of the door to the pantry, Jean swallows down the fraying nerves in his throat and knocks. Within seconds, it opens to a thumbs up from Sasha before the girl disappears down the hallway. This leaves him standing in the doorway with Eren looking confused and a little bit angry sitting inside.

 

Well.

 

"Uh."

 

"What are you doing?" Eren squints suspiciously at Jean.

 

"I’m taking you out to dinner." Jean says, taking the few steps and dumping the gifts to a startled Eren. He stares down hard, daring the other to refuse.

 

"Okay?" Distracted by the toy, Eren lets Jean pull him up and out. Jean manages to drag Eren until the front desk and almost out the office without protest but alas, everything doesn’t necessarily go as planned. "Wait, wait."

 

"What?" Stopping and checking his watch, Jean takes note of the time. They’ll probably be late at the reservation Connie booked in the restaurant.

 

"Where are we going? And what are these?" Eren was frowning at the gifts but Jean noticed that he was holding onto the doll preciously and the bouquet… Jean blinks, well, never mind the bouquet.

 

"Those," Jean points, "are gifts. And we," he alternately points at to the two of them, "are going to be late for dinner." He clears his throat, red creeping up his cheeks, "Dinner date."

 

"Oh."

 

"Okay, less blushing and more walking." Jean mutters, both to himself and to Eren because God knows how matching the flush probably looks on their faces.

 

They step outside the building and a cool breeze greets them. The sky was a pretty hue of lavender and orange, the light of day giving way to the creeping night. They walk a few blocks to the right, past the lesser kinds of restaurant in the business district and to the other side of the street where the high-class ones were located. Normally, Jean wouldn’t go near those except to pass by or when a client calls (and he lives the other way and a client never calls him) but special occasions call for desperate measures, right?

 

They stop in front of the restaurant Chief Erwin had highly recommended. Through its glass wall, the two of them could see people in classy dresses and suits fine-dining with an excessive amount of utensils beside the usual. The whole place looks daunting.

 

"I think," Eren mumbles hesitantly beside him, "I may be a little under-dressed for here, Jean."

 

Jean was about to reassure Eren and tell him don’t mind it when a maitre d’ approached with a little book in hand, “Reservation, sirs?”

 

"Uh yeah, Kirstein for two?" 

 

"Kirstein… Ah, yes, please follow me."

 

It was expensive, no doubt about that, but the press of Eren’s body as he tries to burrow closer to Jean at the walk in was almost worth everything.

 

They arrive at a little private table, away from the general dining area and Jean momentarily wonders how Connie managed that one. They sit, the headwaiter bids them a good evening and leaves them with an awkward bit of air. They were silent, the restaurant’s classical music wafting from the corner, the low murmurs of patrons and the clinks of utensils were the only sounds between them.

 

Jean admits he may or may not have completely thought this through.

 

Eren sighs and Jean looks up in mild panic. When their eyes meet, Eren starts to snicker and Jean was left with the option of glaring. He can’t insult Eren right now; it was his idea after all.

 

"So?” Eren starts, putting the mangled flowers and the plush toy aside, “What’s the occasion?”

 

Jean shifts, movement limited due to the restriction made by his suit. “Nothing. Do I need a reason to take you out?”

 

“No, but a restaurant, really? This restaurant?” Eren argues, looking around with distaste. “You didn’t even tell me.”

 

“Surprise?”

 

“I was, happily even. Until you brought me here.” Eren deadpans and Jean feels a little lost at the moment. “Thank you for the toy though, the flowers,” Eren wrinkles his nose, “not so much.”

 

Jean nods, looking everywhere but Eren. How can he confess now?

 

“Jean,” He glances up and Eren catches his gaze and holds it, “we’re dating, right?”

 

“Yes.” He gruffly answers, masking the slight trepidation in his tone. Was this the part where Eren tries to break up? But they’re not even in a relationship yet?

 

“You know you can tell me anything without fancy things like these, right?”

 

Uh. “Yes?”

 

“So, do you? Need to tell me anything? Are you going to propose or something?”

 

Propose? What? “No?” Ugh, fuck, he just wanted to confess damn it.

 

“Okay then,” Eren sits back, eyeing Jean with amusement. He glares back, it was not funny. “Let’s order! I’m hungry and we can’t let all of these go to waste.” Jean hungs his head as Eren starts to gesture for the server.

 

That went well.

 

Attempt three: What even.

 

 

 

 

 

_**iv.** _

  


 

It’s late night and Jean still lies awake in bed, staring up the ceiling barely illuminated by the moonlight spilling in from the window. Beside him was Eren, lying on his side and quietly staring at Jean for the past few minutes.

  
“What?” Jean chances a glance through the corners of his eyes, “Why are you staring me? It’s creepy, cut it out.”

  
“Did you just call me creepy?” Eren huffs, lifting an arm and lightly hitting Jean in the head before smirking, “And I was just wondering how you’re still awake. You’re usually halfway snoring through dreamland.”

  
Jean splutters a protest and Eren gave him a one-armed shrug.

  
“Why are you awake then?” He retorts, still a little bristling over Eren’s innocent comment because nope, there should be a rule against talking about sleeping habits with potential boyfriends.

  
“Not that I want to be still awake at,” Eren’s eyes flicks over the clock hanging across the bed, “this hour because we do have an early meeting tomorrow with Levi, but I can’t sleep.” Under the sheets, Eren tangles their legs together and when their feet touched, he shivered. “And your feet are cold.”

  
Jean blushes, his mind way too distracted at the simple action. “Stop it.” He hisses when Eren keeps rubbing their feet, probably with the intent to warm Jean’s. The idiot.

  
“But you’re cold.”

  
“I like it that way!” Jean lightly kicks Eren and the other glares in retaliation. “Seriously, just go to sleep!”

  
Eren narrows his eyes, squinting and nearly pouting in irritation before huffing in resignation and turning to the other side. Jean barely keeps in the snickers that were trying to escape his lips because did Eren think he looked intimidating? He was more adorable than scary in Jean’s opinion.

  
Silence settled back in the room and Jean lets his mind wander once again.

  
The two of them had been dating for quite some time and despite the little kisses and the affectionate, almost couple-worthy gestures that they share, Jean hadn’t even once uttered the words Eren really wants to hear.

  
Maybe that’s why they hadn’t really tried taking that proverbial first step. And honestly, Jean wants to. Only, he never seems to have that right time, right place kind of thing.

  
Jean sighs, looking over the still form of Eren. With only the moonlight as his guide, his eyes traces the contours of Eren’s back. His shirt was loose, enough that it had ridden up freely when he turned earlier, and revealing a sliver of his waist and the boxers peeking over his pyjamas. The boxers that, Jean can’t help up grin, he bought for him as a present.

  
And suddenly, struck by a realization, doesn’t this count as a right moment too? At least, according to the mangas Mikasa had stoically dumped on him after he asked for her opinion. He did see some scenes like this when he browsed through…

  
“Eren?” Voice low enough in case Eren was really sleeping, Jean calls out and observes Eren’s even breathing. Not even a twitch. He tries again. “Hey, Eren?”

  
A beat of silence and then a very sleepy grunt follows, Eren turning back to his back. Jean was treated to the image of Eren’s sleeping face, mouth slightly open and letting out soft snores once awhile. His brain takes a few minutes to enjoy the view.

  
When it kick starts, Jean realizes that this might be the perfect opportunity.

  
It takes him a few minutes – okay, a lot of minutes – fine. It takes him a few minutes short of an hour of stillness and silence to regulate his breathing and pump up his nerves to utter the three words…

  
“I love yo–”

  
Eren’s eyes blink open sleepily and Jean hastily trails off to a groan, eyes quickly slipping shut. Jean suddenly finds himself feigning sleep in panic. He feels Eren’s continued stare and despite the sweat threatening to break out on his temples, he makes sure to watch that his breathing was regular and not stuttered like his chest was feeling inside.

  
“One day…” Eren mumbles, Jean feeling his arms over his chest as Eren cuddles close.

  
Jean cries little manly tears inside his brain.

  
Attempt four: Just, shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part ii. is part of the Friction drabbles. :)


	2. Take Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. Not dead? Happy New Year!! ^^

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

_**v.** _

 

  
"It's not trespassing when I have the key, right?" Jean murmurs, waiting for the elevator door to open at the 10th floor. When it did with a small ping, Jean steps out to the familiar hallway, walking the little distance to the door with an engraved 104 in its plate.   
  
  
Jean stands in front of the door to Eren's apartment, the lightening sky as dawn breaks behind him casting his shadow over. Probably from an outsider, it would look ominous and paint him as a suspicious person. That one yaoi manga has something like this...  
  
  
Wait. Ugh. Jean shakes that thought aside before it branches out to something traumatic. It's probably best not to trust Mikasa ever again.  
  
  
Shifting the various plastic bags of grocery in his hands, Jean fishes the keys out of his pocket. He opens the door and the barely lit hallway inside greets him. He tiptoes in, trying to make as less sound as possible towards the kitchen.  
  
  
It was kind of obvious that Eren was still asleep, as most people would probably be at five o'clock in the morning. Jean has plans today though, big foolproof plans, and nothing's going to stop him. Except probably his skills at cooking. But he tries not to dwell too much on that.  
  
  
He places the bags on the kitchen table and takes out the ingredients to an elaborate breakfast menu that he had in mind. He opens the cookbook Armin had graciously lent him with unnecessary words of encouragement.   
  
  
How hard could it be? Cooking was just basically simplified science, and Jean was the highest on Chemistry back in his high school. Plus, if, in an off chance that something might go wrong, at least it's not his kit-  
  
  
No wait, scratch that, nothing will go wrong. Jean was definitely not going to jinx himself thinking about it. But he still thanks whoever was the layout architect of the apartment for putting the kitchen farthest away from the bedroom.  
  
  
Jean continues to fumble around the cabinets for the necessary things, laying it out in the marble surface of the kitchen counter. He meticulously arranges it in order of the menu he had planned. Running the table with a critical eye, Jean nods to himself.  
  
  
“Time to start.”   
  
  
…  
  
  
And, well, after an hour or so and most of the things he had bought either in the trash bin or in a mess, Jean was just about ready to call for police help. Eren’s kitchen looks like an epic place of a vicious battle, particularly between Jean and the low-priced ingredients to home-made pancakes. Not to mention the apparent winner of that.  
  
  
“What the fuck,” Jean angrily stares at his seventh egg, hissing in frustration, “how do I crack you properly?” He takes a fork and lightly taps in the middle of the egg. When nothing happened, he hit it harder. Egg number seven met the same fate as egg number three.  
  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jean collapses at one of the stools, resigned to his fate. His apron, newly bought the night before, was covered in various things. Egg yolk, pancake batter, the strong smell of vanilla flavour, and splashes of water whenever he tried to rinse.  
  
  
The faint sound of a door opening has Jean jumping up his seat in panic, eyes wild as it darts around the murder of the kitchen. It’s definitely too late for the kitchen but he could still delay its discovery. With haste, he pulls off the apron and dusts himself from the other sticky things in his person while mindful of the light padding of footsteps in the hall. Barely sparing a glance at his look through the gleaming unused pan, Jean hurries out the kitchen to intercept Eren.  
  
  
A shout of surprise and hard fist met Jean when he rounded the corner to Eren. If not for the well-aimed catch that he did, Jean would probably be having a matching bruised face to his battered ego in cooking.  
  
  
"Jean?!" A wide-eyed Eren, clenched fist still in Jean's hold, exclaims. "What the hell are you doing here this early?"  
  
  
Well, I was planning a surprise breakfast for the both of us but the food wouldn't cooperate and hates your clean kitchen so.  
  
  
Jean blinks. "Uh, I wanted to take you out? For breakfast?"  
  
  
"Seriously? This early?"  
  
  
"Yeah. So, uh, shut up and take a shower already." He puts his arms around Eren and forcefully ushers him to the bathroom (also away from the kitchen thank fuck). "Take your time!" Jean shuts the door to Eren's bewildered face. He waits for the shower to turn on before turning away.  
  
  
With that done, one obstacle temporarily delayed, Jean rushes back to the kitchen to hide any evidence of his spectacular failed effort. He shoves most of the unused ingredients to the cabinets and fridge while the unsalveable ones go straight to the waste bin under the sink. Nodding to himself, he steps back near the counter to see any leftover mess. There was none, fortunately, and Jean lets himself heave a sigh of relief.  
  
  
"You should have just told me you know."  
  
  
"Shit! Eren!" Clutching his throbbing hip from its unfortunate meeting with the counter, Jean guiltily bites his lip. Eren stood at the entrance, just a towel wrapped around his waist but still dry. That only means one thing. "Sorry. I messed up your kitchen."   
  
  
"It's fine." Eren moves to him, patting his head like he was some errant child. "I wish I saw you though. That must have been funny." Frowning, Jean's gaze met Eren's amused eyes just as he started to snicker.  
  
  
"Shut up." Jean huffs, disgruntled and ego a bit bruised. Eren glances at him and his snickers turn to full blown laughter, almost as far as bending down to clutch his stomach and laugh like there was no tomorrow.   
  
  
But surprisingly, it didn't offend Jean in the least, no. All he could think about was how stupidly charming Eren's laugh was. His eyes were closed, the corners crinkled in mirth. His lips stretched wide in a big smile, perfect little crooked teeth and gums visible for Jean to see. Eren laughs heartily, comfortable enough with Jean to let him see this side.  
  
  
And the only thing left in Jean's mind was -  
  
  
"God, I love you so much." It comes out unbidden, a soft breath that escapes through Jean's lips. The words steal all the air in his lungs, his throat suddenly choked up as he stares how Eren stiffens and his chuckles die down. There was silence and more than that, there was something in Eren's eyes that makes Jean desperately try to backtrack in panic. "I-"  
  
  
"What did you say, Jean?"  
  
  
"I-I like how you laugh." And Jean forces one, an ugly sound that claws its way out of his throat. Eren looks away and Jean thinks that it was worse than getting chewed out and banned from Eren's apartment. He grimaces, feeling all sorts of horrible. "Sorry."  
  
  
Eren quietly sighs and turns around, heading out the kitchen. "It's okay," he pauses and looks back at Jean, a little disappointed grin on his face, "we're eating out, right? I'll take a shower now." He leaves Jean standing alone in the kitchen.  
  
  
Jean sags against the counter, a particular ache in his chest. Seeing Eren like that...   
  
  
Attempt five: Never again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**vi.** _

 

  
  
 _Dear Love_  
  
  
Jean grimaced down on the paper. Ugh, too cheesy. Scratch that. Eren Jaeger? Too formal. Baby? Babe? Jean cringed at the post sex endearments. They hadn't even had sex yet.  
  
  
He scratches his scalp with the end of the pen, face contorted in a frown that was looking more constipated by the second. Who the hell knew that writing a letter was this hard? He knows words, he has buttered-up clients for goodness' sake, but at this moment, Jean doesn't know to _word._  
  
  
He shifts and leans back, the standard office chair squeaking in protest. His gaze moves to the clock on his desk, counting down the seconds before it turns five. But he's done with work though, the stay inside the office a mere formality lest he be noted again by the HR.  
  
  
Not that he was necessarily excited to get off but another day done mean he was one day closer to December 23rd, the day Eren's flight was due to arrive. Plus, the idle time also gives him ample amount of space to plan how to mend things between them.   
  
  
After that particular traumatic event inside Eren's apartment, things had been a bit strained between the two of them. They still talk, of course, because to continue dating entails that at least, but lately there had- has been an undercurrent of awkwardness. Like they were two acquiantances in the process of learning about one another.  
  
  
It hurts, Jean admits to himself, and it makes him nervous, afraid, more than what he feels when a particular business deal threatens to go south. To top it all off, Eren was out there miles away with Levi of all people. Never mind the fact that he was really all their direct supervisor so it's not surprising in the least.  
  
  
But still, right?

  
  
  
_Eren,_   
  
  
_~~There's a lot of paper lying around and I was holding this new pen~~  _

  
_~~This is a love letter oka~~_

  
_Hey. It's been a month since I last saw you. ~~a month, two weeks and four days since something had changed. I never knew what loneliness was until now.~~  I know it's an official business meeting  ~~but we didn't really part on good terms~~  and you're with Levi  ~~so I'm worried~~  so you should be in good hands. You are, aren't you?  ~~I don't know how to say this~~  But you're still  ~~okay~~  great on your own so you go show them, yeah? _   
  
  
_By the way, speaking of on our owns, ~~I miss you I mean~~  how are you? _   
  
  
_How are we, Eren?_

_  
~~I'm okay~~  _

_  
I know I messed up big time and I'm sorry. God, you don't know how sorry I am. I kept remembering the way your face fell when I took back my words. Yeah, I know. I know I'm a coward, choking back three simple words from panic and fright. But I wanted to say it, I do, I wanted to say it back to you. I'm frustrated, okay? ~~I'm not~~ I'm this near to pulling out all my hair and contemplating on taking speech therapy just to make my vocal cords work._   
  
  
_I-_

  
  
  
Jean sniffs, swallowing around an invisible tightness in his throat. His eyes were burning even behind closed eyelids, his mind a mess of words trying to find an outlet in the pen that he holds tight in his grip.  
  
  
He doesn't know what time it was. How much time passed since he leaned back, closing his eyes and trying to stem the feelings that were spilling with every letters and words that he writes.  
  
  
Jean wanted to laugh. Who would have thought? A plain pen and a piece of paper had done him in. If he knew, how writing his emotions down was plain easier than taking all that time to delay, he would have done this the first chance he got.   
  
  
Because Jean now knows.  
  
  
He knows he can and he will write that three words in the next lines. But instead of a prequel to an epic confession, it has become a sequel to a confession gone bad. In a way, it's probably a start too, but he could have avoided a lot of things if he had the balls to properly say it in the first place.  
  
  
But things already happened and most of it, Jean would never trade for anything. All that's left right now was the fact that he's ready. Jean blinks open his eyes, the paper full of strike outs and an honest word vomit comes to focus. His mind was startlingly clear except for the words all neatly lined up.

  
  
  
_I love you, Eren._   
  
  
_I love you and I miss you. Please, come back soon. Let me have the chance to finally say it to you, without any ahhs and errs. Let me say those three words straight to your ears without any more delays. Come back soon._   
  
  
_Come back home to me._   
  
  
_Yours,_   
_Jean._

 


	3. Cut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just kept getting longer and longer. Sighs.

  

 

* * *

 

 

_**vii.** _

 

Windshield? Jean eyes the dusty wipers and glass with a little downturn of his lips. No, too dirty for the paper. Passenger seat? He looks at the leather covered seat with a narrowed gaze. Promising but a possibility it might not be seen and be sat upon instead. Back seat? He checks it through the rear view mirror. Nope, higher probability it won't ever be notic—

 

A loud blaring horn from behind startles a curse out of Jean.

 

"The fuck's your proble—" Belatedly noticing the green light, Jean shrugs a little in embarrassment and grips the steering wheel a little more firmly. Shifting his foot to the gas pedal, he continues through the intersection and nobly lets the cursing driver from the car behind overtake him.

 

Jean drives leisurely, the large structure of the airport already looming ahead and the previously almost empty road started having more and more cars. He was in a hurry himself actually, the ETA of Eren's flight barely half an hour from now, but the only thing on his mind was where to place the neatly folded letter he'd made last week.

 

Of course it was important, the strategic placement of the innocent letter was the first step after all. This time, Jean wouldn't fail. He was going to say I Love You straight to Eren's face even if it's the last thing he'd do.

 

Nodding to himself in determination, Jean expertly maneuvers the (borrowed) company car to the airport parking. He checks his watch, calculating the time till the flight arrives. He's just got enough time to prepare and he'd be damned if he's not going to take advantage of it.

 

Eren will definitely be surprised.

 

-

 

The silence was a bit awkward. The short walk from arrival to the parking lot was looking more like the path to judgment.

 

Jean fidgets as he dutifully follows behind Eren. He doesn't know what happened, one minute there were all talking amiably ("Boss, where's— Eren! Hi, hey, um, missed you." "I missed you too, Jean." "Ugh, you two, get away from my sight.") and the next minute a heavy silence descends ("We'll part here. I have other plans." "Sure, uh, boss..." "..." "You two are hopeless. I'm leaving." "..." "...").

 

The sound of the trolley's wheels against the rough cement feels like the grating of Jean's nerves. Eren briskly walks ahead, shoulders stiff and grip tight on the handle. Understandably, Jean was quite hesitant to broach the subject but there was no other time than now.

 

"E-"

 

"Where's the car?"

 

"-err what?" Almost bumping to Eren from his sudden stop, his planned words trail off in confusion.

 

"The car, Jean," Eren sighs, exasperated, but Jean swears he could see the twitch on those lips,"I don't know where it's parked?"

 

 Oh yeah.

 

"Eh, this way," gently nudging away Eren, he takes the trolley and leads the way.

 

The moment he turned his back and felt Eren fall in step beside him, Jean had to turn his head away to conceal the grin he can't prevent. Even that twitch of lips that was barely a smile at all already felt like a huge victory to him.

 

He feels giddy from the prospect of seeing Eren's smile again. He was nervous, true since he still can't help that, but there was no sense of panic. He just felt excited to take that first step and whatever happens, he will make sure that they do.

 

So today, Jean swears, will be the most memorable one yet.

 

-

 

The night was settling nicely, the cold winter air blowing on the empty road.

 

As he shifts to the second gear, Jean casts a quick glance beside him. Eren was looking out the window with a pensive glance, on his lap was the unopened letter Jean had wholeheartedly prepared.

 

When they came to the car earlier, Eren had spotted the whiteness of the paper immediately. Jean already had his heart beat roaring in his ears the moment Eren stared at it for long, felt it trying to rip its way out his ribcage as Eren reached out for for the paper. But nothing could beat how it tried to clog his throat painfully when Eren put the letter straight to his pocket without a word, moving to put away his bags in silence.

 

It had been silent ever since.

 

Jean grips the wheel hard, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. From the way his mind was spinning with thoughts that had no business being in his head. Was it the end then? Was this the start when he finally separates the we and the us?

 

"Dammit," he gasps, as the silence starts to ring sharply in his ears, air suddenly lacking in his lungs.

 

"Jean?"

 

He could hear the surprise on Eren's voice, the barely there touch on his arms. He was starting to feel numb, the dark road barely illuminated by the headlights in front was further darkening at the edges.

 

The car jerks to a sudden halt.

 

Jean fumbles with the seatbelt off of him and pushes the car door open with a little difficulty. He tries and fails to breathe in air, the arm rubbing his back and Eren's alarmed calls soothing his nerves a little.

 

A panic attack, that was it. He thought he'd outgrown it as a child, thought that nothing could make him fear anything like that again.

 

"I'm—" he was forcing his body to calm down, _calm down, Eren's not leaving you_ — "I just need— I'm okay— Air, I just need air. " He rasps out, the shortness of his breath gradually fading, and manages to send a quick smile at the intense worry written all over Eren's face.

 

He steps out of the car, bending over the roof to catch his breathing and manage to assert control over his respiratory. The position left him with a small view on the interior of the car. When Eren moved to undo his own seatbelt, Jean hastily assured him with a wave of hand. "I'm fine, I'm fine already."

 

They've stopped in the middle of a dark road, vacant lots on either side offering no reprieve besides the dim light the lampposts and very few cars had passed them by. So, with a final deep breath, Jean steps back and smiles at Eren.

 

"What happened?"

 

"Nothing, I just panicked a bit—" _over the thought of losing you._ Jean bites his lower lip.

 

"You've never had panic attacks before." Eren frowns, worried lines creasing his brow.

 

_I've never thought I'd lose you before._

 

Jean stares meaningfully at Eren. His heart was beginning to race again and there was a growing bright light on his periphery but there was no other time, nothing to interrupt them now. He kneels on the sidewalk and reaches out for Eren, heat stinging his eyes and mind whirling, "Please, don't leave me." And Eren's eyes were widening, jaw lightly dropping, and the light was getting brighter and brighter.

 

"I love yo—"

 

There was a loud sound of metal hitting metal, a scream, an impact, and then warmth. Eren was nowhere. The sky was dark, no stars, no stars. His lungs were burning, no air, he can't breath, just a scream on his ears. His throat hurts, his arm was scorched, the grass beneath him wet, something dripping down his face.

 

It hurts, he needs air, he can't breath.

 

Eren. Where's Eren. Did he hear. He can't say it with his throat on fire. There was still screaming. Make it stop. There's smoke on the sky. The sky was black.

 

Black. Black. I Love You.

 

Where's Eren.

 

Ere—

 

-

 

The world narrowed down to whites and the constant beats on the machine. A splash of inky black strands and pale skin peeks among the roll of gauze and bandages.

 

"You need to go back to your room, Kirstein-san." A woman in white uniform advises him, her voice soft as well as the touch on his shoulder. "You need to rest too." When no answer was forthcoming, the woman sighs quietly. With a pat on his shoulders and a look of pity sent to his way, the nurse finally slips out the room.

 

The stifling quiet settles back down in the room, a blanket of grief over the beeps of the heart monitor connected to motionless figure. Jean tightens his grip on the white sheet covering Eren's unconscious form, unmindful of the stinging pain on his own bandaged wounds.

 

"Eren." He tries to say, voice scratchy and unused from a week of recovering. "Eren…" He was choking, his heart clawing itself painfully out his throat. His eyes were burning again, every beep pounding hard against his muddled mind. "Eren!" He calls out, willing those eyes to open, those lips to smile and comfort him that it was all a dream. _A nightmare._

 

It didn't. It wasn't.

 

"I love you, Eren." Jean sobs, tears finally free and trailing down his pallid face. He cries, even with his lungs suddenly screaming to be used. He wails, even if the whiteness was slowly being replaced by black starting in the edges of his vision.

 

"I love you."

 

Jean cries and gasps until darkness and the lack of air claims his consciousness.

 

_I love you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise. The next chapter will be the end. ;;


End file.
